


Every shade of stupid

by elzed



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-27
Updated: 2010-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25378216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elzed/pseuds/elzed
Summary: Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, as Jamie puts it. So yes, I have begun importing old BSG RPF over into AO3. For old times' sakes...
Relationships: Jamie Bamber/Katee Sackhoff
Kudos: 1





	Every shade of stupid

**Author's Note:**

> Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, as Jamie puts it. So yes, I have begun importing old BSG RPF over into AO3. For old times' sakes...

Originally posted in [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile)[**oxoniensis**](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/) 's Porn Battle IX, on Dreamwidth.

Prompt: stoned

Betaed by the lovely and swift and deeply deeply missed [](http://overnighter.livejournal.com/profile)[**overnighter**](http://overnighter.livejournal.com/)

“So, in the course of your sheltered British upbringing...” Katee starts, turning towards Jamie with the sidelong grin he’s come to associate with her zanier moods. He cuts in.

“Don’t forget the Parisian early years. They were pretty wild.”

“Oh yeah, you were what, six?”

“Six in _Europe_ , Katee. It’s a whole world of sophistication apart from what you might have experienced as a six-year-old…”  
  
“Shut _up_!” she says, laughing. “And you, Bamber, you were definitely a sheltered child. Don’t give me that shit.”

“Too many older brothers for that,” he says. “They kind of fuck up your innocence pretty early. And anyhow, what were you going to ask me?”

Katee rolls her eyes and drops back onto her elbows, stretching out across the lush green grass with utter disregard for her white pedal pushers, something Jamie rather admires her for.

“You ever heard of Humboldt weed?”

“Vaguely. Maybe.” If he’s being honest, he can’t remember. “Never been much of a smoker, really.”

“Not even in college?”  
  
Yeah, well, he remembers puffing away on spliffs at parties, but he was hardly in with the heavy duty crowd – the guys who spent their days red-eyed and shrouded in fragrant smoke, eating chips and dodgy kebabs in the middle of the night, giggling at random and sleeping through lectures. Didn’t work with being an athlete – his precious lungs – although, for some reason, enormous amounts of booze did. Well, in rugby circles at any rate.

“Rarely. I was always more of a drinker.”

“Maybe it’s time to change that, then,” she says, pulling her bag close to her and rooting around in it. Her hair obscures most of her face but not the triumphant grin that spreads when she extracts what is undoubtedly a fat joint which she proceeds to light with a small plastic lighter.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Jamie asks, looking around. “I know Vancouver’s cool but it’s not like…”

“Oh, live a little, Jamie,” she snorts, and he feels like rule-bound Apollo facing Starbuck the rebel, so he raises an eyebrow and reaches for the spliff.

The grass is pungent – thank God it’s a quiet weekday in Stanley Park, although Jamie’s sure if anyone wandered within twenty feet they would know what they’re up to – but not as rough as he expected as he inhales. It does, however, make him cough, and Katee giggles at the sight.

“What?” he croaks, indignant, before inhaling another defiant toke. “Told you I wasn’t used to it. My body is a temple, and all that, you know?”

“You seem to be coping okay” she sniggers when he hands her back the spliff.

“So is that this Humboldt weed you were talking about?”

“No, this is local. Just that it’s supposed to be about as good but since you’ve never heard of it…”

“It was more hash when I was a kid. Or maybe skunk, sometimes. This is actually nicer.”

“Oh, you like it?”

She’s all smiles and twinkly eyes at him as she takes another deep drag, and Jamie leans over and snags the joint, his thumb not-quite-accidentally brushing against her full bottom lip. Katee looks briefly startled, and he wonders whether he should apologise.

He doesn’t. Instead he fills his lungs deeply – no coughing this time – and revels in the light-headedness that follows. This stuff is _good_ , there’s no doubt about it. Around him the already lush foliage is positively glowing with colours, and he can feel himself relaxing into the springy turf, limbs stretching out, suffused with a warm, almost benevolent glow.

“Good shit, huh?” she asks, after the joint has passed a few times between them.

Jamie nods, because he can’t really trust himself to speak at this point, and Katee pokes him in the ribs.

“Oi!”

“Too stoned to talk, Bamber?”

“Nah. Just chilling.”

“Chilling? Really?”

“Okay, I’ll admit I’m a bit spacked.”

“ _Spacked_?”

“Wasted. Wrecked. Off my head.”

He starts laughing, because, well, he is completely off his nut, and he hasn’t felt that childish in ages. Enough to lunge for her and start tickling her, which sounds like a great idea when he starts, and a little less so when he has a handful of squirming, giggling, squealing Katee and she rolls over and practically smothers him with her generous breasts. That’s when Jamie remembers that dope doesn’t just make him giggly and stupid (not to mention peckish), it also ups his libido by a factor of ten. Or twenty.

Anyhow, he has a hard-on now, and a powerful desire to lick the top of her breast where it meets her T-shirt, and that urge must be resisted at all costs. Luckily she’s also realised this isn’t the brightest idea in the world, and she rolls off him with an _oomph_ , her face crimson with suppressed laughter and perhaps something else, because she won’t look him in the eye.

Jamie’s mouth has gone dry – hardly a surprise, except that he doesn’t think it’s just the dope – so he licks his lips nervously, only to find that she’s tracking his tongue with rather more attention than she ought to.

Oh. _Oh._

Memories of rare stoned evenings filter through his addled brain – much laughter, getting the munchies, watching stupid stuff on telly, and occasional gropes and snogs as the night progressed – and Jamie realises, belatedly, that getting stoned with a woman he’s had a crush on for months is perhaps the stupidest thing he’s done in a long, long time.

Problem is, his brain _is_ addled. And Katee looks particularly enticing lying next to him, her eyes shining, her mouth parted with an air of anticipation about her that tugs at him like nobody’s business.

He _has_ to kiss her.

So he gives in to the moment, lets his hormones take over, and hopes the THC will drown the guilt that would inevitably paralyse him if he were less stoned, less horny, less hopelessly in thrall to this sassy blonde woman with her wide mouth, her hazel eyes, her set of tits lesser men would kill for. He knows, in the back of his mind, that he _will_ regret it, but not here. Not now.

Not when Katee’s lips part under his with a little surprised sigh; when her tongue chases his, darting into his mouth in pursuit; when her hand scrabbles for purchase against his chest, her nails scoring lines through his shirt that radiate all the way to his groin. He follows his impulse and slides closer to her, his erection pressing into the hollow of her hip, and she bites his mouth in response.

Holy fuck, this is hot and so bloody wrong, in every possible way: Kerry; the girls; the job; even the outdoor setting. Not to mention that he’s pondering whether they can get away with actually _committing_ adultery in a public park, because, God help him, he really wants to shag her.

“This is crazy,” Katee breathes out, her mouth temporarily freed from his – lips red and a little swollen, her eyes shining with the kind of unbridled desire that takes Jamie straight back down memory lane to those selfsame student parties where kissing a girl might or might not lead further, the uncertainty acting as a powerful aphrodisiac.

“It certainly is,” he says, hoarse, and dips his mouth to her neck, lips brushing over her skin, making her gasp and struggle briefly in his arms until she’s kissing him again, desperately. He takes this as encouragement, slides a hand up along her side and cups her breast, which Katee clearly likes, if the way she bucks her hips into his is any indication.

Her nipple is taut through the fabric of her shirt, and deliciously sensitive – each time Jamie brushes it with his thumb she makes a little noise in her throat that just eggs him on further. So he edges his other hand under her shirt, fingertips caressing the strip of skin immediately above her trousers, and she shudders.

Oh God, he’s so wasted, so completely in the moment, every inch of his skin is positively thrumming with arousal, his senses overwhelmed. He’s drowning in her, losing his mind; it’s the most amazing, fucked-up erotic experience he’s ever had.

There’s something intensely surreal about the situation, a stone’s throw from downtown Vancouver and yet – to all intents and purposes – in the middle of a (well-tended) wilderness; the illusion of solitude in one of the city’s most popular parks. The air is redolent with the scents of pine and the sea that he’s come to associate with this place, his home from home once removed. And yet for all the familiarity, he’s having trouble finding his bearings.

It’s probably the dope, coating everything with a thin blurry film, enhancing colours and blending sharp edges; that, and an abiding feeling that all the goalposts have moved, and that what used to be safe and familiar is now new and dangerous.

Not to mention unbelievably exciting.

“Jamie?” Katee says suddenly, and there’s a hint of challenge in her voice. “Have you ever had sex outside?”

“Whoa. What?”

 _That_ he didn’t expect. It’s one thing to play it by ear, all wandering hands and mouths and eager hormones; but spelling it out? Half his brain is struggling with the moral implications (no mean feat while stoned and hard) while the other is focused on the physical and channelling more blood to his cock, as if it were needed.

“Huh. Thought so. That sheltered upbringing again,” she mocks, and just for that, he pulls up her shirt and fastens his mouth onto her left breast, teeth and tongue at the ready, until she cries out and clutches at his shoulder.

“Jesus, Bamber!”

“Oh, sorry. Shouldn’t I?” he asks, hovering over her chest and trying not to laugh at her frustrated expression. “Did I hurt you?”

“Oh, fuck you,” she says. “Also, don’t stop.”

So he picks up enthusiastically, adding a devious hand down the front of her trousers for good measure, playing with the zipper that separates him from his current holy grail. She’s not stopping him, and he’s trying to remember how many people they’ve seen walking, and whether he needs to drag her deeper into the undergrowth. It’s an utterly pointless exercise since he can’t seem to concentrate for more than thirty seconds.

Then Katee palms him through his jeans and any worries about exhibitionism fly out of his brain. He picks himself up, pulls her to her feet (all the while trying to keep his mouth on her tit and failing utterly), and staggers towards a dense cluster of young pines further from the path. He scans the ground quickly for poison oak – a local hazard he’s learned to respect after a couple of unpleasant encounters – before dropping back to the ground with her, cushioning her fall with his arm and rolling over so she rests on top.

“Fuck, Jamie,” she whispers. Her eyes are wide and shining, there are two red spots over her cheeks, and her mouth – Jesus Christ, her mouth is sin and voluptuousness and paradise rolled into one. He kisses her again, which leads to more pawing at each other while trying to unfasten various bits of clothing.

Katee gets there first, her fingers warm and assured as they wrap around his painfully hard cock and pull it – none too gently – out of his boxers and jeans, stroking him roughly. He gasps, feeling both shockingly exposed and more aroused than he cares to admit. He’s not going to last long at this rate.

“You’re uncut,” she says, surprised, and her hand stills, fingertips light all of a sudden. She slides the velvet soft skin along his shaft, the softness of her touch making his nerves tingle, and smiles. “It’s… different...”

“Personally, I’m glad my mother won that argument,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady while Katee continues to play with his foreskin and he tries not to think of letting himself come in her hands.

She laughs breathlessly and he takes the opportunity to tug down her tight trousers and finally, gloriously, reach into her underwear – a plain white thong, already damp – and run his knuckles along the seam of her sex. Her touch falters, and she gasps as he pushes two fingers into her, the scent of her arousal rising and making him impossibly harder. She’s wet, so tight and hot around his fingers, her whole body thrumming to the rhythm he imposes on her.

It’s hard to believe this is real. Everything is a little crazy – the outdoor setting with just enough privacy to pretend they’re in some wild oceanside forest, with only the pines and the sea breezes for company; the thick fog of sexual desire that makes his heart pound and his cock strain; the blissful, stoned mindlessness that frees his id and crushes his superego. There will be hell to pay, he knows that, but he can’t bring himself to care when she’s moaning in his arms.

“God, Katee, you’re hot,” he mumbles, fucking her slowly with his fingers, while she tightens her grip on him. “Want to be inside you, so fucking sexy, you’re driving me crazy.”

The feeling’s mutual, apparently, because she bites down on his lip with renewed passion and lets go of his cock to push her trousers further down and off, giving him a chance to free himself from his own clothes before straddling him. She’s gloriously wet and throbbing against his erection, and when after a couple of languorous strokes she raises herself on her knees, he wraps his hands around her waist to help her impale herself on his cock.

There’s something amiss, Jamie thinks, but it’s shoved to the back of his mind by the wave of animal pleasure swamping his brain as their hips rock together, the tempo rising with each thrust. He’s on the brink of orgasm when the realisation hits him that they’re doing it without a condom, and he manages – just – to pull out in time, coming in thick spurts on his belly with a groan.

“Smart move,” she says, panting, as he’s coming down from his peak, and he grins. She quirks an eyebrow at him, a hint, and he musters what energy he’s got left and snakes a hand between her legs. Luckily she’s so keyed up it only takes a few swipes of his thumb on her slick clit before she stiffens and shudders silently, eyes drifting closed, and slumps onto him.

Jamie lies there on the dry moss with the scents of wood and grass around him, dappled sunlight winking through the branches, Katee’s warm, breathing weight on him, and listens to his heartbeat downshift from delirious to peaceful, each thump a little quieter than the one before.

He expects guilt to crush his soul, now that he’s finally acted out the fantasy that’s been teasing his imagination for so long, but if there’s one thing to be said for the local weed, it’s that it has exceptional mind-numbing properties, because so far all he feels boneless and relaxed. Katee’s half asleep, and it would be so easy to let himself drift off .

It takes a superhuman effort of will to stay awake and shake her gently by the shoulder, pointing out that they shouldn’t really fall asleep half naked in the middle of a public park in broad daylight, even if they’re hidden in the bushes.

“I mean, anyone could walk by,” he says.

Katee sighs and rolls off him, wriggling back into her trousers while he stands up and tries to make himself vaguely presentable, brushing earth and grass from his chinos and buttoning up his shirt. Unsurprisingly, he’s missing a couple of buttons. He’s trying to figure out whether he looks completely dishevelled or just vaguely scruffy when Katee whoops.

“Look what I found!”

He looks up.

“I knew we hadn’t finished it,” she says, lighting the remnant of the joint he dropped in the grass earlier, when the kissing began.

“Whoa. Don’t you think…”

“What? That we might end up doing something stupid?”

Her eyes crinkle with amusement as she passes him the spliff.

Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, he thinks, and he inhales deeply, keeping the demons at bay for a little longer.


End file.
